Chapter 1315: with translation of title

Sweden, Stockholm, Karolinska Medical Institute.

In the central conference room, on the huge LCD screen, the surgical procedure was clearly displayed before everyone's eyes.

Unlike before, this live broadcast had sound.

The conversation between Zheng Ren and Doctor Mehari was heard clearly by everyone.

The first stent had been completely removed, and Doctor Mehari did not suffer terrifying complications such as myocardial ischemia or coronary artery rupture.

Everything looked so wonderful, it could even be called perfect.

Mehari's wife relaxed her expression; although everything was within her expectations, she still worried that something unexpected might happen.

As expected of hands kissed by Heaven, this forbidden-zone surgery was completed smoothly, without a ripple or mishap.

Moreover, the young doctor truly did not yield in front of Doctor Mehari; after a brief exchange, when the catheter was about to enter the coronary artery, he directly administered basic anesthesia to Doctor Mehari to avoid any mishap.

Mehari's wife was especially pleased with this.

In the live broadcast, the surgery paused briefly; the surgeon was preparing to remove the second stent.

"Gentlemen, the surgery just now, I believe everyone saw it." Mehari's wife said: "I remember thirty years ago, when Mehari's technique of coronary stent implantation was nominated for the Medical Prize, people said this technique was still imperfect, unable to avoid complications, and therefore could not win the Medical Prize."

"Now, thirty years have passed, and this technology is perfect." Mehari's wife glanced around at the elderly judges and said: "However, cardiac intervention technology has become a thing of the past, no longer the cutting-edge technology; thanks to Mehari and countless doctors pushing it forward, it has spread to every corner of the world."

Everyone thinks this is merely a basic surgery and does not believe it deserved the Medical Prize!

This time, Mehari and I are in agreement; we will vote for the doctor whose hands have been kissed by Heaven, choosing the TIPS technique.

"Madam, please calm down." The review committee chairman seated in the middle, Doctor Lavesen, looked at the screen, set down his water cup, and said lightly: "Clinical techniques cannot win the Medical Prize; that is a rule. I think we should get used to it rather than try to break it. As for the future, who knows."

"Lord Lavesen, please forgive my ignorance." Mehari's wife turned her wheelchair in a different direction and stared at Doctor Lavesen.

His face now bore several more age spots, looking much older, exuding a rotten smell.

"Madam, only we few reviewers are here; say whatever you wish." Lavesen remained calm.

Only Doctor Mehari and his wife support it, which is far from enough. Wanting a clinical technique to win the Nobel Prize? In the next life!

"The former committee chairman, Lord Dahlin, said the same thing; thirty years later, your words haven't changed." Mehari's wife said coldly: "In this room I can only smell a rotten odor. Your splendid clothes are like a burial shroud—just looking at them makes one nauseous."

Mehari's wife's words were sharp, leaving no room for any mitigation.

"That's just your illusion. Lobotomy is seen as a blot on the Nobel Prize. Do we really want to witness another seemingly successful technique win the Medical Prize, only for it to become a scandal after countless complications?" Doctor Lavesen did not get angry; he simply said calmly.

"Aren't there already enough blemishes? Just one lobotomy?" Mehari's wife stared at Lavesen's age spots and said: "I think that soon, when the demon comes to collect your soul reeking of rot, you'll surely have a pleasant chat. After all, you share many topics; you might even become good friends."

"Madam, please stay calm." Doctor Lavesen still wasn't angry; he tapped the table and said: "Whether it's the new TIPS surgical technique or the procedure to remove coronary stents, it merely represents the skill of an outstanding doctor. It is still at least 380,000 kilometers away from the Medical Prize."

"Lord Lavesen, only you would think that way." Mehari's wife murmured: "I truly don't know how someone as ignorant as you got onto the review committee."

"Madam, you must maintain respect and awe......"

He hadn't finished speaking when the door was pushed open.

A person with disheveled hair, as if reacting to static electricity, walked in first.

"Mehari's wife, please accept my sincerest thanks on behalf of Doctor Mehari." That person said.

He is still "young," only in his sixties, more energetic than everyone seated on the Medical Prize review committee. At the very least, he doesn't need to sit in a wheelchair being pushed in.

"Lord Olsson, it's a pleasure to have you." Mehari's wife smiled slightly, extended her hand, and accepted Olsson's hand-kiss.

"My God, when I received Doctor Mehari's email yesterday, I still doubted." Olsson raised both hands; his hair stood straight and fluffy, like a hedgehog, together with his arms conveying the surprise in his words: "The live broadcast just now was practically a deity descending to earth, pointing the way forward for mortals."

"Lord Olsson, how did you come from the Royal Academy of Sciences?" Doctor Lavesen asked lightly.

The Medical Prize reviewers are different from those for Physics and Chemistry.

Doctor Olsson is the chairman of the review committee of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences, yet in the Medical Prize review he has no say at all.

Therefore Doctor Lavesen doesn't mind Olsson suddenly appearing here.

Here,

is the Karolinska Medical Institute,

it is my domain!

Even His Majesty the King must give me sufficient respect.

"Dear Lord Lavesen, I first want to thank the Karolinska Medical Institute for its contribution to the world." Olsson said excitedly.

He was too excited, speaking quickly and loudly. In the small conference room, Doctor Olsson's voice reverberated repeatedly.

Lavesen frowned, coldly gazing at the faint ripple spreading across the water in his cup, as if his dead heart had been stirred.

"The surgical signal has been received; after dynamic three-dimensional reconstruction, we detected turbulence. And this surgeon, said to have hands kissed by Heaven, actually managed, guided by intuition or some mysterious force, to act on the turbulence, preventing blood turbulence from affecting the surgery."

"So what?" Doctor Lavesen looked at Olsson's exaggerated hair, still holding to his viewpoint.

Cold, indifferent.

Clinical techniques cannot win the Medical Prize; that is the rule!

An absolute rule, to be enforced absolutely; I will not allow it to be profaned.

"How so?" Doctor Olsson looked at Lavesen in astonishment, as if looking at a patient with senile dementia.

He paused for several seconds before saying in a tone of surprise: "Lord Lavesen, please pardon my rudeness."

"Huh?" Doctor Lavesen felt that perhaps things wouldn't be as simple as he imagined.

"Lord Olsson, please wait a moment; the surgery is still ongoing." Mehari's wife said gently: "Please understand a wife's anxiety about her husband's surgery."

Olsson was about to say something, but the wife interrupted him. He glanced at the screen, shrugged his shoulders, and gestured for the people behind him to set up various machines.

Lavesen looked at those strange machines, unsure what Olsson intended to do. The Royal Academy of Sciences has all kinds of black technology; some little gadgets he could not even imagine.

The central conference room fell silent; the surgery continued.

The second stent, the third stent...

After 11'52", the surgery ended.

Olsson, at the very moment the surgery ended, expressed his congratulations to Mehari's wife. Her expression relaxed considerably, a hint of a smile climbing her brow.

Afterward, Doctor Olsson tidied his clothes, but that tuft of fluffy hair looked anything but solemn; no matter his expression, it seemed as if he were joking.

"Lord Lavesen, please allow my rudeness." Aoersen said very seriously: "I am preparing to nominate Doctor Zheng."

"Shou Bing?" Doctor Lavesen raised his eyebrows slightly, saying coldly, "Impossible, the medical prize will not be awarded to a clinical procedure."

"Oh, no, damn it, you misunderstand." Aoersen said: "I want to nominate this year's physics prize!"

Lafusen's hand rose up, just about to use a gesture to express his refusal.

But he never expected to hear Aoersen say that!

A doctor receiving the Nobel Physics Prize? A clinical procedure cannot receive the medical prize, but instead receives the physics prize—this is undoubtedly a huge mockery.

Doctor Lavesen felt the air turn pungent, breathing becoming extremely difficult.

Suddenly, his heart gave an extra beat. Briefly appeared symptoms of palpitations, chest tightness, and shortness of breath.

Is Doctor Olsson crazy? Lafusen's hand hovered in midair, staring at Aoersen in astonishment, having been calm for a long time, yet still not knowing what to say.

If a doctor were to receive the Nobel Physics Prize, the whole world would surely be in an uproar.

Originally, the Nobel Prize in Biology and Medicine has been in name only for the past few decades; it should be renamed the Nobel Biology Prize.

As for medicine?

whocare!

"Lord Lavesen, please definitely give the nomination slot to the Royal Academy of Sciences." Aoersen made an elegant Jiu Gong, like a true noble.

"May I know why?" After a full ten seconds, Lafusen slowly lowered his arm, asking cautiously.

"The reason is simple; it will appear before your eyes shortly." Aoersen said excitedly: "The final piece of the puzzle of classical physics has appeared before my eyes; if I cannot award him the physics prize, I believe Lord Newton's soul will travel back and take me away directly."

"I have a feeling that turbulence will spark a revolution; as classical physics becomes perfect, quantum physics will also be promoted!"

"……" Lafusen could not believe what he heard or saw.

In the central conference room, the judges of the medical prize sat silently, their hearts equally astonished.